


Band Dynamics

by TeratoMarty



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alcohol, Drug Use, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-02-01 05:47:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21403738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeratoMarty/pseuds/TeratoMarty
Summary: Murdoc exploits 2D.  Sky continues blue, water remains wet. Murdoc feels remorse.  Rains of frogs, sun rises in west.
Relationships: Murdoc Niccals/Stuart "2D" Pot
Comments: 5
Kudos: 131





	Band Dynamics

Murdoc hadn't really meant to start using 2D like this. Using him to win fortune and fame, yes. Using him as a punching bag, why not. Perhaps it had grown out of that. It was far too easy to just tell him, "Take your meds, face-ache," once too often, til the lad passed out and laid still.

It wasn't on, rodgering your mates, but they weren't really mates, so it was all right. Murdoc generally used a lubricant and was usually fairly careful, so it wasn't as if he was hurting the boy. Not much. Nothing permanent, anyway. What was sick, though, what was disturbing, was the way Murdoc had started to crave it. He found himself thinking about the moron's smooth skin, his lean limbs, how soft his blue hair was, the feeling of delicate ribs under his fingers.

It really came to something, though, when he was in bed with a pair of red-hot, conceivably under-aged groupies, and he found he couldn't get it up. This happened, sometimes- whisky, drugs and generalised dissipation took their toll- so he told the girls to get on with it without him, and went digging through his stash for a Viagra.

As he searched, he found himself annoyed by the girls' theatrical squealing and moaning. Sweet Satan. D never did that. He didn't have that nasal, ear-grating giggle. His voice was soothing, idiot that he was. He wasn't pushy, like the girl grabbing his cock, demanding that he get it up and give it to them. He smacked her hand away. No, D just laid there, still and pale and so easy... Murdoc imagined that the boy hardly minded, that if he ever opened those bottomless black eyes, he'd just smile and spread his legs a little wider.

The girls' filthy cackle yanked him out of his reverie. Oh, oh no. No, he did not. The girls dove for his now-hard cock and started giving him exactly the type of double blowjob that should have delighted him. Instead, he was disgusted; with the girls, with their tongues, with the hotel, with the tour... with whatever he could think of to avoid how much he disgusted himself. Generally, his solution to that kind of thing was more booze and girls- now what the fuck was he meant to do?

In a sudden rage, he kicked the girls out of the room. He scrabbled in the detritus on his nightstand to find a pack of cigs for a soothing smoke. He found them, extracted one, and after the second go, stopped trying to light the filter end. He threw the ruined cigarette away, then lit a fresh one and took a deep, angry drag. 

This was not happening. He blew out an enormous cloud of lung pollution. He was overtired. The girls were ugly. He'd taken the wrong combination of whatever-the-Hell pills he'd taken tonight. He'd fix it. Just booze, form now on. Booze and cigs, of course. Maybe he should cut down on the booze, he'd heard it made you impotent. Only girls, he promised himself. No more touching 2D. No more.

It only got worse from there on, though. The harder he tried to fuck groupies without thinking about his singer, the softer his cock stayed. In four weeks, he managed to get off exactly once, and that was only because he'd chosen a girl with dyed-blue hair and had her from behind. Even then, the scent was all wrong- some harsh, floral chemical, like a lavatory deodoriser. Not 2D's smoky-sweet scent at all. 

"Fuck," he muttered to himself, sitting in the crumbling disco-bar under the hotel where they were staying tonight. "Fuck, fuck fuck, bugger. Fuck."

Next to him, 2D moaned into his pint. "Ooh, my head."

"Take your meds, D," the bassist said automatically, then choked on the drink he'd been about to sip. Oblivious, 2D thumbed open his pill bottle and swilled them down with his beer. He lowered his head to the bar, and laid there. Murdoc tried not to look, tried not to stare at the pale hand sprawled on the countertop. It had been ages since the bassist had even managed a wank, since he kept cutting himself off whenever he couldn't think about anything but the singer.

"I don't feel very..." 2D lifted his shaggy blue head. "Not at all. I think I need to... going to go... need a lie-down..." he stood up and wandered toward the elevators.

Murdoc hunched over his drink. No, no, no. He didn't need to, wasn't going to... but he did, and he was. He knocked back the rest of his tequila, downed what remained of 2D's abandoned pint, then ordered himself a double whisky for good measure. He pounded it back, and headed up to the suite.

He let himself into his room, hating it, hating himself, again, hating everything except 2D. To dull it down a bit, he rummaged in his tumbled scree that invariably accrued around any bed he slept in, and came up with a bottle of gin. Gin on top of whisky on top of beer on top of tequila... whatever happened next, he knew he'd regret it tomorrow. He made a mental note to nick a handful of 2D's headache pills. He downed a large portion of the gin, and let himself into 2D's room through the connecting door.

2D was sprawled on his bed in the darkened room, a pool of light from the open door surrounding him like an aura. Murdoc realised that he was casting a shadow in the singer's halo, and stepped into the darkness before smiling to himself and slamming the door. Head reeling with too much booze, not enough food, and something else, he tripped over a tangle of clothing and fell to his knees beside the bed. He looked down at 2D, his eyes adjusting to the gloom. The idiot always looked so peaceful, especially like this, bombed out of his wits on pain pills, not a care in the world. Mainly because he never understood, never even knew what Murdoc was doing to him.

"Oh, D..." Murdoc muttered, grasping the boy's bony hand. "D, I dunno why I do it. Any of it. Not just the fiddling about. Pretty bad, that, though." He knew that he was rambling, but he couldn't care. "I have you onstage like a dancing monkey. Like my da, like he made me. Fuck. I've turned into my dad, eaten up, grasping old bastard that he was. He never loved me, you know. Treated me just like I treat you..." The fang-toothed bassist was suddenly choking on his words. "Or maybe he did love me," Murdoc continued in a strangled whisper, "cos I do love you, and I treat you just the same." He hid his face against the singer's toastrack chest. "I love you, D, and I'm sorry." His eyes were leaking, his nose was running and he didn't even have the energy to deny to himself that he was crying. 

"Aw, there, there, Muds." Suddenly, the limp hand he'd been clutching came to life, started petting his ragged black hair. "Here I fourght you just wanted a shag. It's awright, dun' cry."

Murdoc gave a strangled shriek, the sound an unholy hybrid of startled demon and scared little girl. His sozzled brain fought toward sobriety. "What- how'd- how LONG?!" His stomach lurched, and he gagged.

"Go on, frow up whatever you've been drinking, you'll feel ever so much better," 2D suggested gently.

Murdoc did as he was told, staggering desperately for the bathroom. Once his stomach had rejected at least the gin, he did feel somewhat better... until he realised what had just happened, what his singer knew. He wondered briefly if he could drown himself in the commode; it'd be a fitting end to his miserable life.

"Brush your teeth an' come back here," 2D called.

Murdoc obeyed, as if he were an automaton, as if he were the one with brain damage and the singer were in control. He squeezed out 2D's toothpaste onto his finger and cleaned his teeth as best he could before returning to the singer's bedroom. Once there, however, all he could do was to stand uncertainly by the bed. 

"Lie down, Muds," the singer motioned to the bed beside him. "Why come over all shy now?"

"How long have you known?" Murdoc asked, sitting gingerly on the bed.

"Oh, ages," 2D replied, pulling the bassist closer. "When we were working on the first album, I'd had such a dreadful headache all day, then I took my medicine and was feeling ever so much better, and then you were touching me orl over and sort've snarling."

"Why didn't you stop me?" Murdoc's traditional response when he'd done something even he had to admit was foolish.

"Felt good, didn't it. You've got a gift, Muds, I don't care what the groupies say." He cracked an eye to smile teasingly.

Murdoc sputtered. "Who said- what- wait, I don't care! All this time you were just letting me... letting me." He thought for a moment. "And you liked it? You never got a stiffy or nothing."

2D shrugged. "Between the headaches and the pills, I don't usually anymore. Nice to just have you on top of me, though."

Eyes wide, nostrils flaring, Murdoc climbed on top of 2D's skinny body. "Want you. Oh, sweet Satan, D, want you."

"So have me."

"Lemme get the lube."

"Dun bovver, orlready took care of it."

"... what?"

"Werlll... I noticed how you dun' always use lube, so lately I've been preppin' myself up before... you know."

"You... what?" Murdoc's cock twitched against 2D's thigh.

"I put Vaseline up my bum, dinni?"

Groaning with lust and weeks of frustration, Murdoc tore off 2D's pants and his own underwear. He hiked the singer's legs up over his own shoulders, and gratefully plunged his cock into 2D's ass. It was slick and tight, perfect and perfectly familiar. Murdoc realised that this was how 2D always felt underneath him, the feeling he'd been craving, the feeling of sliding into place. 2D had always been ready for him, accepting of every horrible thing he'd ever done.

Even while his hips were snapping forward, slamming into 2D, the bassist's head was spinning. 2D had known, all along, wanted it, wanted him. No-one in his life had ever put up with his evil shit for so long. He'd been using 2D like an old sock, and the boy... just let him. He was crying again, tears and drool seeping onto 2D's shoulder.

"Aw, Muds. Muds, don't cry." 2D was looking at him, black eyes wide. "Just fuck me, it's good." He spread his thighs wider, wrapped his legs around Murdoc's hips, drew him in deeper. Murdoc thrust in deeper, moaning and screaming, clawing at the sheets. "D, D, fucking Hell, D..."

"Oh yeah, Muds, give it to me."

"All, all for you," Murdoc gasped. He curled his body around 2D, driving his cock in deep, ejaculating with such force that his balls ached. He collapsed onto the singer, clutching him tightly. 2D wrapped his arms around the bassist. "I love you, D."

"I, you know, love you, too." 2D said, nuzzling the bassist's neck. "Does that mean you'll stop hitting me in the head?" 

"... I'll try," Murdoc grumbled. "Pass me a cig."


End file.
